Since When Do You Speak Russian?
by Traw
Summary: "Since when do you speak Russian?" He had foolishly thought that the explanation he had given Steve had been enough for Steve to let it drop but now it was evident that the explanation he had given was not enough to satisfy his friend. An epilogue to the 2nd season episode "I Helu Pu"


Danny lifted the icy cold beer bottle to his lips and took a large sip, before lowering it back down to his lap as he stared out over the ocean, enjoying the soft muted gold, red and purple colors of the setting sun as it began to slowly slip below the horizon. It had been a long day.

"So, you speak Russian!"

He sighed as he heard Steve sit down on the chair beside him.

He had seen Steve glance in surprise at him as he warned the two bodyguards in Russian to back off because Steve and he were cops. He knew there would be questions from his partner and friend later, questions that he did not really want to answer and he had been secretly grateful when the Russian diplomat diverted Steve's attention by reminding Danny that while they were cops in Hawaii but the consulate sat on Russian soil. But the reprieve had been short lived when as soon as they had left the consulate building Steve had asked, "Since when do you speak Russian?"

He had managed to shrug it off by telling Steve that he had worked a mob case in Brighton Beach, and all the Russian he had learnt was 'back off, we're cops' and 'this vodka tastes like urine'. He had foolishly thought that the explanation had been enough when Steve had let it drop when they had spotted Dimitri Vonokov watching them through one of the consulate windows.

But now it was evident that the explanation he had given was not enough to satisfy his friend.

He opened his eyes and stared out at the now darkening ocean as the unwanted memories returned and threatened to overwhelm him. He could feel Steve's eyes watching him expectantly as Steve waited for an answer to his question. "I already told you." He snapped, a little more harshly than he meant to, "I learnt just the two phrases, 'отступить, мы полицейские' – 'back off, we're cops' and 'эта водка на вкус как моча'– 'this vodka tastes like urine' when I was working undercover on a Russian mob case-"

"In Brighton Beach." Steve finished for him.

Danny nodded, taking another sip of beer as he continued to stare out at darkening ocean, wishing he was anywhere else but here, having this conversation. "Yeah," he said slowly as he lowered the bottle, "in Brighton Beach."

"Why didn't you tell me that you could speak Russian?" Steve asked, frowning, before taking a small token sip of his own beer as he waited for the answer.

"Because the subject never come up." Danny answered, consciously lowering his voice and forcing down the hurt and the white-hot anger that still bubbled to the surface whenever he thought about his undercover stint with the Russian mob. And he found himself wishing he had never told the two Russian bodyguards to back off in Russian.

Sensing there was more to the story, Steve pushed gently, "Want to talk about it?"

"No, Steven, I don't want to talk about it!" Danny growled, as he felt his anger begin to bubble to the surface again, threatening to consume him alive with its white-hot intensity. Lifting the bottle back up to his lips, he took another long swig of the cold liquid, in a desperate attempt to cool his anger, only too aware that it was threatening to boil over and scald the wrong person.

"If you don't want to talk about it, then we won't talk about it." Steve told him before lifting his hand, miming zipping closed a zipper across his lips and turning a key before tossing away the key.

Danny sighed again, only too aware that despite Steve's silent mime that the subject was closed, that the subject was far from closed and that Steve would wear him down until he told him everything that Steve wanted to know. Lowering the now almost empty bottle back to his lap, he growled, unable to keep the heat out of his words as he turned to face Steve, "Okay, you want to know why I didn't tell you that I spoke Russian. Well, the answer is simple, it's because I don't like to talk about what happened. It's as simple as that, Steve, that's the reason why I never mentioned it!"

"That rough?" Steve asked quietly, ignoring Danny's anger that he knew was not really directed at him.

Danny swallowed hard and nodded before reaching down between them to snag another bottle of beer. "Yeah, it was that rough," he admitted reluctantly as he sat upright and opened the icy cold bottle and raised it halfway to his lips. Glancing at Steve, he admitted softly as he lowered the bottle back down, "And I'm not even talking about the case."

"Rachel?" Steve asked quietly.

Danny nodded as he looked down at the bottle he held in his hand. "Rachel." He answered, not willing to look up and see the sympathy in McGarrett's eyes. Staring down at the bottle's label, he drew a deep shuddering breath as the still too- raw emotions threatened to overwhelm him as he forced himself to continue. "She didn't like me being a cop after Gracie was born. I guess she was scared every time I walked out of the door to go to work that I wouldn't be returning home again that evening." He shrugged as his fingers began to peel the label, "Although, to be honest, I think her discontent started a lot earlier than Gracie's birth. We were young and I don't think she realized when she married me what the life of a cop's life was really like and I never thought about being anything else but a cop."

"So, Rachel wasn't happy?" Steve pressed softly as Danny fell silent.

"No, she wasn't happy, neither of us were, but she still wanted to make a go of our marriage. She wanted us to go to marriage counselling, to work on our marriage but most of all, she wanted me to give up my job."

"And you didn't want to?" Steve asked as Danny looked back up and stared out at the darkening sea and sky.

"Work on our marriage or give up being a cop?" Danny asked before lifting the bottle up to his lips and taking a sip.

"Both, I guess," Steve frowned as he took a small sip of his own beer.

Danny shrugged again, "Both I guess but in the end it didn't matter. The last twelve months of our marriage, we just drifted apart. Then I guess, me being assigned to go undercover with the Russian mob case was the last straw for Rachel. She told me she wanted a divorce if I went undercover, that she didn't want to spend days, or weeks or possibly months waiting for that knock on the door to tell her that the something went wrong while I was undercover and I was dead. I tried to tell her that going undercover was part of the job and I didn't really have a choice. So, the next day she filed for a no-fault divorce citing irreconcilable differences."

"And you didn't try and contest it?"

Danny shook his head, "She was right, our marriage was over. I let her have the house, the dog, the car and whatever else she wanted, and she never fought me on joint custody of Grace. The divorce was finalized the day ten days later while I was undercover. That was the night I was learnt to say 'эта водка на вкус как моча'."

"This vodka taste like urine," Steve breathed.

Danny nodded as a small sad smile tugged his lips, "Yeah, 'эта водка на вкус как моча', this vodka tastes like urine. By the end of the night after I was told that the divorce had been finalized, I must have said it a hundred times. My partner taught me the other phrase of 'отступить, мы полицейские' in case I needed to say it before we went in."

"How long were you undercover?"

Danny shrugged as he cast a quick glance at Steve before he returned his attention back to the water, "Three or four months, I guess. After a few weeks, I lost track of time. We were living by our wits trying to make sure that we didn't screw up or else we knew we would end up with a bullet through our heads. The Russian mob don't muck around if they suspect they are being crossed."

Steve sat quietly digesting all that Danny had told him as Danny took another long sip of his beer.

Lowering the bottle back down onto his lap, Danny sighed, "But Rachel ended up being right after all."

"Right about what, Buddy?" Steve asked softly, not sure what Danny was now talking about.

"About the phone call she feared that she would get if I went undercover." Danny answered softly, his voice slurring just a little as the several beers he had consumed began to take effect. "The undercover gig went south, and I was shot when we took the Russian mob members down. Not that I remember too much about what happened. I took two rounds in the back and they told me afterwards that for the first four days the doctors weren't sure that I would even make it. I was in hospital for over almost three months." Looking back down as he felt the anger he had pushed down again surge back up, he shook his head as his hand tightened around the bottle. "And while I was in hospital, Rachel married Stan. Hell, Steve, I didn't even know she was dating anyone…"

"And that's when she moved Grace to Hawaii." Steve breathed, finally understanding why Danny had never told him about the undercover case where he had learned to talk Russian or how Rachel had managed to move Grace to Hawaii without Danny being able to object to the move.

"Yeah, that's when she moved Grace to Hawaii and as soon as I could, I followed." Danny slowly nodded his head as he raised the bottle back up to his lips and gulped down the rest of his beer before reaching for another. Staring out at the dark ocean again, he took a deep breath as he tried to push his anger back down, not willing or able to deal with the anger and hurt he still felt as he tried to take the heat out of his voice as he looked back at his closest friend and murmured, "You wanted to know why I never told you I spoke Russian, so now you know."


End file.
